


Sacrifice

by ElenaCee



Series: The Consultant [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Augment Psychology, Augment biology, Conflict, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Plot, Science Fiction, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/pseuds/ElenaCee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few is fine in theory, unless you're the one left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to inject a little conflict, because even in this 'verse, Khan will never be tamed.
> 
> Again, thanks for all the comments and kudos left of the preceding parts! I'm woefully behind with answering. I hope you'll like this next bit, too.

Waking up, in Jim's considered opinion, had never felt so wonderful.

As he allowed himself the luxury of clinging to sleep a little longer, he slowly became aware of his body, warm and comfortable; of the sound of slow, measured breaths next to his ear; of the feel of warm, strong limbs wrapped around his and a hand gently beginning to stroke his cheek and his hair.

He sighed in bliss, limbs heavy with sleep, unwilling to wake up completely.

A body shifted next to him, then lips were at his ear. "I know you're awake," that incomparable voice purred, "Captain."

"Hmmm." Not quite denial, not quite assent. "You know more than I do. Khan." He still refused to open his eyes. It had been a short night, due to… reasons.

The clasp of arms and legs around his body tightened, then he was lifted onto the strong body next to him like he weighed nothing, and rolled over and onto his back. A face pressed itself against his neck, now on the other side of it.

"I also know that you need to eat a good breakfast today," that dark chocolate voice informed him, lips brushing against his neck.

Jim smiled. "You can tell that from how I smell?"

"Hmm. I can also tell that someone should let you sleep more. I'm sorry, Jim."

Now, Jim did open his eyes. Twisting his head as far as it would go, his lips found the place where temple met hair. "Don't be. It was my idea." He let himself fall back, closing his eyes, content to just breathe. Breathe and feel the warm body next to him breathe. "Didn't know you were such a mother hen," he mumbled.

There was a dark chuckle, accompanied by a puff of breath against his neck. "Never been called that before."

"Never been diagnosed in bed before, either," Jim said, regretfully letting go of the last cobwebs of sleep.

"I should hope so." Khan stretched, giving a sound between a groan and a purr. "I like Leonard very much. I'd hate having to kill him."

Now it was Jim's turn to chuckle. _God, I love you. I think I'd actually die for you._ He, too, stretched, yawning. "C'mon, tiger. Let's go scare up breakfast."

 

* * *

 

The officers' mess hall was filled to 42.2 percent of its capacity when Spock entered. Breakfast not being the favorite meal of most human crew members despite all logical arguments supporting it, this was both surprising and gratifying.

"Wow," Nyota, next to him, stated her own astonishment. "It's packed."

"I assume Dr. McCoy recently gave one of his periodic lectures on the benefits of the first meal of the day," Spock hazarded a guess. He never failed to notice the irony of this in view of the doctor's own aversion to solid food 'before my brain wakes up enough to make my teeth work right'.

Said doctor was, in fact, seated at the Captain's table, eating - will wonders never cease - a meal containing all required food groups. From the way he was consuming his food, Spock assumed that the doctor's teeth were working just fine. The Captain, seated at the doctor's right, was doing the same, as was Mr. Scott opposite them, and Khan Noonien Singh, at the Captain's right.

The Captain looked up, saw them, and waved them over, indicating two empty seats opposite them.

"Now that I see this, I'm hungry," Nyota stated. "And you're having something, too, Spock." She dragged him over to the food synthesizers.

Spock allowed himself to be dragged. It had indeed been longer than eighteen hours since his last food intake, so there was no logical reason to refuse. Following a quick mental review of the nutrients he had consumed during the past three days, he made his selection based on which nutrients most needed replenishing, while Uhura, as usual, completely went by her gut. Literally speaking. Spock had to admit that both methods were equally effective in keeping them both healthy.

When they joined the officers (plus consultant), the topic under discussion appeared to be cultural imprinting on food preferences, a well-trodden and beloved discourse now given new spice - pun not intended - by the presence of their consultant. Spock nodded a general greeting and sat down, Nyota next to him doing the same.

"Being able to refuse to eat something on the grounds that you don't like it is a luxury only available to decadent societies," Singh was saying. "Skip three meals and see if you still don't like it. Skip ten, and you will eat anything."

"No one's disputing that, Noonien," the captain replied, waving his fork. "We're not talking about not eating stuff, though; we're talking about favorite foods. Comfort food. Y'know, the things you want to eat when you're feeling down." He looked at Spock, eyes glinting in that way he had that never failed to make Spock feel incongruously warm. "Spock here likes a certain Vulcan soup, right, Spock?"

Spock nodded readily, having gone down this conversational path before. "Plomeek," he stated for the benefit of their consultant, who had not. "Eating it, for me, evokes memories of earlier times, specifically of childhood, which is a phenomenon common to most sentient species. I would assume that Augments are not exempt." In fact, he knew from their mind meld that Augments were not exempt, but he was not going to betray Singh's confidence by stating so outright.

"If you're asking me if I can be conditioned to associate certain sensory perceptions with certain events, then the answer is yes," Singh said. "After all, conditioning is the simplest and fastest way to learn, and it has its place even in intelligent beings who have more efficient ways to learn at their disposal. But I generally refuse to be conditioned off food, because that's a luxury I don't have."

"Didn't have," the captain corrected him. "You're allowed to not like everything the food synthesizers spit out unconditionally, you know. You're not at war anymore."

"Like the stuff that's passing for haggis," Mr. Scott interjected, either not noticing or ignoring the emotional by-play between their captain and their consultant that even Spock picked up on. "I mean, I love me some haggis, but that? Ugh."

Doctor McCoy grimaced. "I'd argue that anyone capable of eating haggis - even the cooked, non-synthesized version - is capable of eating anything. That stuff is vile." He looked at Spock. "The same goes in full for Plomeek, by the way. I tried it once. Almost put me off eating entirely."

Spock looked back at him, chewing, which he considered reply enough.

"I'm looking forward to trying it," Singh said, serenely.

"What, Plomeek?"

"Yes. And haggis."

The doctor looked, to Spock's eyes, unnecessarily horrified. "Trust me, you don't want that. Eating should be enjoyable. Eating Plomeek isn't even in the same galaxy as enjoyable. And haggis is just... well, ugh."

"You sound conditioned, Leonard," Singh said, still serene. "Should perhaps work on that."

There was general smiling around the table while Spock noted that Singh and McCoy now obviously were on a first name basis. He wondered if that was a result of the relationship Singh and the captain had entered into, a phenomenon he had observed before - a lover's closest friends also becoming friends with the lover's chosen one. If so, perhaps Spock himself should follow suit. After all, the captain did consider him his friend.

"How about this," the captain said, the expression on his face telling Spock that the human had had a thought he considered brilliant - something Spock had learned to be wary of. "We all make our favorite meals, make it a pot luck party, and everyone has to try everything. Yes, you, too, Bones. Substitutes are allowed if the synthesizers aren't up to something, so don't worry, Scotty."

"There's no substitute for a good haggis," the Scot said mournfully. "But 't is a bonnie idea."

There was general agreement with this sentiment. Spock was adding another human bonding ritual to his mental catalogue when everyone could feel the ship drop out of warp. The intercom came on, calling them to the bridge.

 

* * *

Jim strode out onto the bridge, feeling like he could take on anything the universe might throw at him. Maybe there really was something to be said for having a good breakfast. "Report, Mr. Sulu."

The helmsman gestured towards the main viewing screen. "We're not really sure, Sir. See for yourself."

Jim looked. The usual background of stars was almost entirely blotted out by what looked like dense, localized nebulae. Electric discharges lit them up as they traveled along them. As the ship made its slow forward way, Jim could also see what looked like constellations of rock-like matter. Single rock-like objects seemed to be moving along deliberate pathways, though Jim could not see anything that might propel them. One of them came too close to the Enterprise's collision shield and disintegrated.

"That's... certainly not random. Spock?"

"Fascinating."

Jim grinned. "And...?"

"I am gathering data, Captain. Speculation at this early stage is illogical."

Jim grinned even more. Two stock Spock phrases in three sentences. Clearly, the Vulcan, too, was feeling the benefit of his breakfast. "Let's start with something simple, then. How do these things move? And how do they know where they're going? They look like nothing but rocks to me."

"Silicium does seem to be the dominant element, also iron in significant amounts. I am measuring strong fluctuations all over the EM spectrum extending for thousands of miles. As for what propels them, I would say, again, electromagnetism. Whatever this phenomenon is, it appears to be widespread."

"Will the ship be affected by all that electricity?" Jim wanted to know.

The Vulcan's gaze directed itself into the middle distance, which told Jim that Spock was calculating. "Unlikely, Sir. Provided that present conditions persist."

Jim nodded. This was probably the best he could get at this point. "Slow ahead, Sulu. Impulse only. Try not to disrupt anything. Spock, broad sensor array. Let's find out what this is."

For a while, the ship slowly moved through the electrified nebulae and rocks lined up like pearls on a string, now and then evading the moving balls of silicium. It all looked strangely beautiful; Jim could not shake the feeling that there was an undeniable purpose behind it. As they progressed, it became more and more difficult to evade the rock-like moving things; several of them were destroyed by the ship's shields.

"Data is still inconclusive," Spock said in response to Jim's questioning glance. "There is nothing here that I would not expect in space, no unusual elements, no signs of technology. But the sheer order in what we are seeing indicates that this is not just a section of space. If I were to speculate -"

He was interrupted by Sulu's urgent "Captain!" The helmsman nodded at the viewing screen.

The nebulae had condensed around the ship, now completely blotting out the view at the stars. Parts of the nebulae appeared almost solid now, so dense had they become. Electric discharges traveled along those bands. It certainly looked like the ship was faced with a near solid, electrified wall.

"Stop engines, hold this position," Jim ordered. "Spock?"

"Sensors indicate that we are surrounded, Sir."

"I can see that, Mr. Spock. Recommendations?"

"For now, hold this position and see if the formation disperses."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Our shields seem to be able to destroy at least some of the objects, so, moving out the way we came while relying on our collision shields appears the most favorable course of action in that case."

As it turned out, the formation did not disperse, so Jim eventually ordered full impulse speed astern. This worked for a while, until Sulu reported that they were slowing down.

"Engine trouble?" Jim guessed, against all instincts. By now, the mass of nebulae had become so dense that it was obvious it was made up of something much more substantial than gaseous substances.

"Negative, Sir. Engines are fine. The ship is being held fast."

"Captain," Spock said, "if this is somehow a deliberate act by some sentient agency, maybe we can communicate with it."

"Talk to rocks?" Jim said, skeptical. "Why not? Uhura, open a wide frequency channel and repeat this message on all radio frequencies every five minutes."

She nodded at him.

"All stations, this is Captain James Kirk of the USS Enterprise. If anyone can hear me, please respond. We'll be monitoring all frequencies for replies. Please come in." He signaled Uhura and sat back in his chair. "Patch that into the universal translator, and also use all encryptions you can think of, including, I don't know, Morse and binary."

"Yes, Sir."

They waited. As the minutes passed, Jim felt himself beginning to worry. The ship wasn't in any imminent danger, but if they didn't get out eventually, sooner or later, the dilithium core was going to fail, and with it the life support systems. Okay, they had a few years before that happened, but still. Besides, he had a feeling that getting stuck was only the beginning of their problems.

What they didn't get was any kind of reply, not even a knocking against the hull.

"Sir," Sulu said after a while, "there is a constant drain on the shields. Down five percent."

 _Great_ , Jim thought. _I'm clearly psychic._ "Right." Time for some drastic measures. "Mr. Sulu, ready phaser cannons."

They tried phasers, and photon torpedoes. Each shot briefly got them a little space, but before they could move too far, the gap closed again.

"We will be out of torpedoes and phaser power before we clear this region," Spock predictably informed Jim.

Of course they would be. "Cease fire." _What now?_

The doors opening and closing behind him heralded the arrival of Bones and Khan.

"We've been watching this shit happening from observation deck one," Bones began without preamble. "We've been hashing a few things out and we got a theory."

With an effort, Jim ignored the image that conjured - Bones and Noonien on the observation deck, spitballing opinions, coming up with workable theories. He made an inviting gesture. "I'm all ears, 'cause I'm almost out of ideas."

"Two theories," Khan corrected. "One is a little more fantastic -"

"A lot more fantastic," Bones cut in.

"A lot more fantastic," Khan repeated equanimously. "The first is Sargasso."

Jim nodded, while Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura looked blank, and even Spock visibly accessed his mental memory banks. "Could be, yeah. In which case we'd be royally fucked, excuse my Rigellian."

More blank stares. "Sargasso, Keptin?" Chekov finally put the general lack of comprehension into words.

"An old Earth legend, Mr. Chekov," Jim said, happy to be able to talk about two of his favorite topics - history and seafaring. "Sargasso is the name both of a region of the North Atlantic ocean on Earth and of the weed which covers large parts of it. The water in the Sargasso Sea slowly revolves around itself in entropious currents driven by the Gulf, so anything that drifts in never drifts out again. This is why the Sargasso weed - floating weeds covering miles and miles of sea - collects there. In the nineteenth century, there were many accounts of ships that got lost in the Sargasso Sea, stuck in the weed and becalmed, unable to maneuver, never reaching land or the open sea gain. Ships would be discovered in the weed months or even years after they disappeared, seaworthy but devoid of their crews, or with nothing but skeletons aboard."

There was a brief silence as everyone digested this.

Nobody, not even Spock, objected that this was only a legend, Jim noted. _We're all just cosmic sailors, venturing out onto the wide, unknown sea, where monsters lurk beneath the surface and anything, even a cosmic Sargasso, is possible. It's only superstition until it happens to you, after all. And even today, we still feel the same thrill those ancient sailors felt when they cleared anchor and went underway._

"Exactly," Khan broke the silence. "If this is a cosmic equivalent of the Sargasso Sea, then we're faced with a non-sentient, purely natural phenomenon. Those floating rocks would, according to this theory, be driven along electromagnetic induction lines because of their iron content, similar to the entropious currents keeping the Sargasso weed contained, and these filaments that hold us would have formed in accordance with physical laws, changing their state of aggregation in response to the energy we introduced by entering this field. All we'd have to do is find a way to destroy the filaments long enough to maneuver and move back out the way we came. Possibly, it might be enough if we ceased expending energy. This would theoretically make the filaments revert to their gaseous state."

"Right," Jim nodded. "So far, so good. I like this theory. All we'd have to do is drop our shields and wait. What's door number two?"

"Door number two," Bones picked up the thread, "is this whole region out there being alive, like a gigantic cosmic organism."

Jim started at him. "That's...."

"A lot more fantastic, yes," Bones went on. "But look at it this way. We have electric currents, which are equivalent to action potentials - nervous impulses - traveling along nerve axons. We have these moving rock thingies, equivalent to blood corpuscles, possibly transporting stuff back and forth. And we have these filaments encapsulating the ship, like a foreign body gets encapsulated in collagen fibers in our bodies."

"Huh." Jim had to admit that it did make sense.

"In that case, though," Bones said, "we'd be even more screwed, because we'd have to actively get out. The filaments wouldn't dissolve on their own. There might even be some sort of aggressive immune reaction that might try to dissolve or otherwise digest us."

"In which case dropping our shields is that last thing we want to do," Jim said, frustrated. "I think I like the other door better." He looked at his First Officer. "Mr. Spock, this is your moment. Give me the odds."

The Vulcan steepled his fingers in front of him. "Given the behavior of the rocklike objects that we observed moving seemingly under their own power, I submit that more than mere adherence to natural forces is involved here. Also, background radiation, astral constellations, and other factors in this region of space are quite typical and unlike the specialized conditions a Sargasso situation would require. Therefore, the theory of this being a living organism is, in fact, more likely to apply here."

"Dammit," Jim commented.

"Shields down another five percent," Sulu said, reminding everyone that there was a deadline. "At the present rate of decay, we'll lose shields in about ninety minutes."

"After vhich it voot just be hull integrity sustainink de ship, Sir," Chekov cut in.

"We've already established that we can't talk to it, and we can't fight it," Jim summarized for the benefit of Bones and Khan. "Sulu, can we go to warp from here?"

"Negative. We can't establish a stable wormhole with this much matter around us, not to mention all that electromagnetism."

Both Khan and Spock nodded at that. So did Chekov.

Jim sighed. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Kill it," Khan said immediately.

"It is a living being," Spock objected. "It is merely defending itself against an infection. It may not even be aware that it is doing so. There is no justification in destroying a life form that may even be unique."

"Killing it should be our very last option," Jim agreed.

"Whether you acknowledge it or not, Captain," Khan said, voice back to its supercilious cadence Jim remembered from their first encounter with the Augment over a year ago, "we are already down to our last option, for the very reason Mr. Spock mentioned. It will kill us, unless we kill it first. The body either kills the contagion, or the contagion kills the body. There is no in-between. You can wait until our hull begins to fail to realize this, or you can realize it now. Those are really your only options."

Jim looked at him, at his cold gaze and stony expression, taking a moment to appreciate that, no matter what they got up to in bed, now matter how snuggly or sentimental Khan could be when the mood struck, he was never going to be tamed.

"All right," he said, "for argument's sake, how do you propose we kill it?"

Again, there was no hesitation. Khan had obviously already thought this through. "Take a shuttle. It is small enough to pass through these filaments, and to avoid all other defenses. Find the center of its nervous system by following the route of electric currents. Destroy it from up close."

"Supposing that this is indeed the only available option," Spock interjected, "disrupting the center of these electromagnetic phenomena will cause a massive electromagnetic pulse. Such a course of action would very likely destroy the shuttle, killing its pilot."

"Doing nothing will most certainly destroy this ship and everyone aboard," Khan returned, showing teeth. He turned back to Jim. "There is no other way. This is my recommendation. Captain."

Jim sighed. He knew without Khan having to tell him whom the Augment would recommend to be the pilot, and he was damned if he was just going to accept that. "So noted. Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, you have thirty minutes to discuss this with your departments, then report back to me. Give me options."

"Yes, Sir."

"Right away, Jim."

They left.

Khan looked at Jim. "Request permission to recruit Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov for making modifications to one of the shuttles." Still unapproachable, still cold; clearly a man on a suicide mission who had no time for sentiment.

"Noonien," Jim said, trying to reach the man inside the Augment warrior, the one he had woken up next to only this morning. "Do you really think that this is the only way?"

For a moment, the austere exterior softened. "Yes, Jim. You'll see in thirty minutes that there are no other options. I am sorry."

Jim bit his lip. Sometimes, to put it crudely, his life sucked. "Very well, then. Permission granted." _Just don't think I'm going to let you go out there. If anyone goes, it'll be me._

 

* * *

 

They had tried everything the science and medical departments had come up with, from using maximum thrust on the engines to releasing all sorts of gases, acid bombs, even EMPs. Nothing had prevented the surrounding filaments from condensing further. By now, they enveloped the ship in a dense layer almost a hundred meters thick, only held at a distance by the shields, which were down to ten percent. Once the shields failed, simulations had it that the filaments would crush the ship in a matter of hours.

They were out of options.

"Captain, the shuttle is ready," Khan's voice said over the intercom.

"I'll be right there." Jim stood, took a last look around his bridge, nodded at Sulu and Uhura, then turned to Spock. "Mr. Spock, mind the bridge. I'll only be a few minutes." He hoped Spock would be able to forgive him the lie, eventually.

The Vulcan threw him an inscrutable look but nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Jim left while he could.

In the hangar bay, Khan stood at the shuttle door, wearing a protective suit, and looking as calm and collected as Jim had ever seen him. Chekov and Scott were off to one side doing what Jim assumed were last-minute diagnostics.

 _Right_ , Jim thought, squaring his shoulders. _Showtime_. "Mr. Scott, Mr. Chekov, please give us a minute."

They looked at each other, then nodded and moved away.

Khan faced Jim. "Please don't make this any harder by trying to talk me out of it, Jim."

"I'm not." _God, this is going to be hard._ Jim smiled at him, hoping the smile looked more natural than it felt. "You were right. There is no other way. The needs of the many and the one, and all that. I understand."

The Augment looked relieved.

"However," Jim said quickly, before Khan could say anything, "you're not going. If anyone goes, it'll be me."

If Jim had expected a strong reaction, he was disappointed. Khan merely raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "I'd be interested to hear how you are going to justify this decision."

"I'm not justifying it, I'm making it. And it's final. I'll go." _I can't let you go. I can't. I love you. How could I go on living, knowing you gave your life for me?_

"Jim, you are the captain of this ship, and a friend to many. I'm not even officially part of the crew. I'm expendable. You're not." His eyes were doing that squinty thing that told Jim he was thinking, strategizing.

By now, Jim was feeling almost physically ill. He needed to get out of this quickly. "Stop arguing," he said, gruffly. "The decision's been made. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

Clearly, Khan did not appreciate having his own words quoted back at him. His expression darkened. "This is stupid."

 _Maybe. It's certainly human. I'm sorry, Noonien._ "It's the only way, precisely because I'm the captain."

The Augment nodded slowly. "Well. In that case, you leave me no choice. Forgive me, Jim."

A hand lashed out, and Jim's world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

"How long has it been now?" Jim asked, trying not to wince from the sound of his own voice. That had been a good punch, and he'd not even seen it coming.

He had not seen a lot of things coming.

"Thirty-nine minutes since the shuttle left the ship," Spock replied with a notable undertone of forced patience. "Thirty-three since we lost sensor contact. Seven since you last asked me."

Jim nodded carefully, ignoring the jibe.

Sulu looked over his shoulder, giving his captain a searching glance - for the second time in five minutes. Clearly, the helmsman was wondering what was going on, and from the looks the rest of the bridge crew threw in Jim's direction, Sulu was not alone.

For once, Jim was taking the coward's way out. He had told no one what had happened. _I know it was stupid, insisting on going myself. The captain should be the last the leave the ship, not the first. Noonien was absolutely right. They'd never let me hear the end of it if they knew._

It didn't change the fact that he was feeling betrayed. _It was supposed to be my decision, even if it was a stupid decision._

He estimated he'd been unconscious only for a minute or two, not long enough for Scotty or Chekov to notice anything amiss. When he had come to, the shuttle had still been on its launching pad. And of course, that damned Augment had somehow also gotten hold of the override codes for the hangar door, because when Jim, in another act of rash stupidity, tried to stop the launch, nothing had happened.

Damn the man. If Khan magically appeared before him now, Jim didn't know if he would hug him, or punch him.

_The way he punched me._

"What's going to happen, Spock?"

"Provided Mr. Singh is successful in finding the target zone, the shuttle's phasers will surgically destroy the being's central nervous system, disrupting it. The filaments surrounding the ship should lose coherence and release us. The entire life form will dissipate within minutes, hours at most."

"What're -…" He cleared his throat. "What are the chances that he'll survive this?"

"Unknown. We can only speculate about the magnitude of forces the shuttle will be subjected to. The data we gathered before the ship became too ensnared for our sensors to work reliably suggests that electric currents of several million volts and thousands of amperes are traveling along the structures we encountered. Assuming that we are now in the being's outer periphery, I further assume that, inside the central nervous system, these currents will be much stronger. The shuttle is shielded against radiation and EMPs, and the new modifications have additionally strengthened that shielding, but I doubt if even that will be sufficient. The shuttle's systems will likely overload, causing an explosion that will tear the shuttle apart."

Jim nodded, keeping his face carefully blank. That had been a Vulcan way of saying that there was no chance except the famous million-to-one chance that, in real life, never occurred.

He'd deal with his conflicting emotions when he knew for sure. He'd allow himself to grieve eventually, once he stopped being mad.

_How can he do this to me? We had an agreement. My decision, no matter how stupid, was supposed to be final. He was supposed to back off. He was certainly not supposed to hit me unconscious and just do as he damned well pleases._

_If he does get back from this, how am I supposed to trust him again?_

An alert signal went off on the navigation console. "Shields are gone, Sir," Sulu said. "Cutting it fine."

They waited.

 

* * *

 

The shuttle viewscreen was a mass of electric discharges. From here, glowing and flashing tendrils of nebulae extended for thousands of miles in all directions. The newly recalibrated shuttle sensors claimed that this was not just a multipolar neuron, but in fact the only plexus in this massive being's central nervous system. In other words, its brain.

He had reached his destination. With hands that were as steady as they had ever been for any task he had set himself, he maneuvered the little craft to align its phasers perfectly for maximum damage. The firing button, once pressed, would remain locked in firing position until the cannon failed, even if the finger that had pressed it was long cold and dead. His modification had seen to that.

The time had come. Now that it had, he allowed himself the luxury of some final contemplations.

This was not how he had imagined meeting his death.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would die as soon as he fired the shuttle's phasers, or soon after at the latest. The massive EMP that would result would short out all electric circuits aboard, igniting the atmosphere inside the shuttle and incinerating him instantly. And even for an Augment, there was a critical amount of injury beyond which there could be no more healing. Massive burns certainly qualified.

However, he had known that when he voiced his suggestion. That was why it was him here, now, and not Jim. Brave, impetuous, fiercely loyal Jim. He of the heart of gold that was perfect the way it was, without any augmentation.

Khan was proud to die in order to save such a man. He regretted the small act of betrayal that had brought him here, but he knew that he would do the same thing again, every time. Some things were worth dying for.

How ironic that he, who had been designed to die in battle surrounded by dying enemies, would now breathe his last alone, giving his life so that others might live.

A surge of rage welled up. "Fuck you!" he yelled into the empty shuttle, at the geneticists who had died three hundred years ago. "Tried to cut the altruism gene out of me, did you. Guess what, you failed! I spit in your decomposed faces!"

With a deep breath and a snarl, he reined himself back in. Enough. Time to die.

His hand hovered over the firing button. _Good-bye, Jim. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me._

A thought struck.

He smiled. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get the chance to die in battle after all.

 

* * *

 

"How long, Spock?"

"Forty-two minutes."

"Hull integrity is beink compromised, Keptin. Estimate vee have less dan an hour before vee get de first leaks."

"Have engineering teams prepare for emergency repair works, Mr. Chekov."

"Yes, Sir."

_Come on, Noonien._

Once more, there was silence on the bridge, only broken by the soft cacophony of alerts.

The viewing screen lit up. Or rather, the filaments surrounding the ship did.

Jim held his breath, staring at the viewing screen.

Nothing happened.

"Uh, Spock? What's going on?"

"Sensors have reported a substantial electromagnetic pulse before going off-line. Our systems are currently recalibrating. But even without sensors, I consider the likelihood that that EMP was due to Mr. Singh's actions to be very high."

Jim nodded, feeling empty inside. It meant that they were going to be free. It also meant that Noonien was now very probably dead or dying. It was a such a hollow victory.

_No. Don't think like that. There's still hope. There's always hope. Million-to-one, remember?_

But the part of him that had seen Chris Pike die did not believe in vain hope. He sat, staring, allowing things to happen without him for a while, while he contemplated the life that was going to be his from now on. I had it all, and I lost it all.

"Sir," Spock's voice reached him. "Sensors are back online. The filaments surrounding the ship are dissipating. The being is dying."

He nodded, again. At some point in the future, he was sure that Spock's words would mean something. They were free. Surely that should be of at least passing importance. Over four hundred persons aboard this ship would live. _Except the one person I care most about. Probably dying right now, too. 'That straight look, that heart of gold, that grace, that manhood, gone.'_

"We have picked up the shuttle on sensors."

He perked up. _Million-to-one._ "Any life signs?"

There was a pause, during which Jim's life hung in the balance.

"Negative." Spock's voice sounded as regretful as it was able to.

The last spark of hope in Jim's soul went out.

"The shuttle's systems are dead. I am measuring no oxygen inside, though the hull appears to be intact." Spock paused. "This is remarkable, Sir."

A kindling of interest. "What? Why?"

"The shuttle is basically intact. Indications are that the atmosphere has been deliberately jettisoned from the craft in order to prevent an explosion. I scan a body inside, Sir. Dead but physically unharmed."

Jim could feel life and warmth begin to suffuse him once again. There was a chance, after all. Noonien could come back from being dead. He had before. _If anyone can beat the odds, he can._ "Sulu, impulse power towards these coordinates. As soon as we're in range, have the transporter room beam him directly to sickbay."

 

* * *

 

Leonard McCoy glared down at the currently dead Augment inside the makeshift cryo tube. _This is getting to be a habit, Noonien, and I don't approve._

Jim, on the other side of the medbed, clearly didn't approve, either, if the scowl marring his handsome face was anything to go by, though Leonard wasn't sure what his problem was. Lord knew he was clocking enough sickbay time himself, so he could hardly blame Khan for doing the same. "How long, Bones?"

Leonard sighed. "No idea. There isn't exactly any standard procedure for thawing people who have frozen solid while being exposed to outer space conditions for more than fifteen minutes. Usually, we don't have to bother being careful, for obvious reasons. But now, we're going very slowly with the warming so as to minimize tissue damage."

"He survived coming out of cryosleep, twice. Isn't this sort of the same thing?"

"Only in principle, and that's not without risk, either. Anyway, once he's warmed up, it's up to him. If we're lucky, his healing may take over and revive him. Could be five hours. Could be ten. Could be ten days. Or he could just stay dead. I simply have no idea."

Jim nodded, straightening. "Right. I have a ship to take care of. Keep me posted."

Leonard watched him walk out, shaking his head in mild confusion. He had expected Jim to straight set up camp here until Khan woke up, so that exit just now had seemed unusually uncaring. And what was this about having a ship to take care of? Jim always had a ship to take care of. Why mention it now?

_Trouble in paradise already?_

He looked down at Khan's face, literally frozen in the expression it had had when death occurred. Eyes closed, fierce frown, every line of the angular features radiating grim determination. The fact that he had deliberately closed his eyes and mouth had probably saved him some damage. All in all, this was the face of a man who had planned on beating death. Again.

"Stubborn son of a bitch," Leonard said fondly to the unresponsive Augment. "Don't worry, whatever it is that's crawled up Jim's ass, I'll take care of it. You'll have your family to come back to. Now do your bit and wake up, okay?"

 

* * *

 

Six hours later, Khan was thawed and his body warmed up to a normal temperature, but he remained stubbornly dead.

Leonard had no idea what to do now except wait. His instinct was to use first aid, but whatever he did, from trying to jump-start the Augment's heart to injecting him with serum from his own blood, might possibly interfere with whatever Khan's healing was doing right now, so he simply didn't dare.

Provided that Khan's body was doing anything at all. Leonard's monitors showed no biochemical activity whatsoever, including, and that was the only good news, decomposition.

Which was what Leonard had told Jim over the intercom during his last status report. "He's still dead, but he's stable, funny as that sounds. Something is preventing his body from decomposing, which is what it would be doing by now if he was truly dead. As long as that's happening, or rather not happening, there's hope."

 

* * *

 

"Thanks, Bones."

Jim closed the intercom channel. _I'll just finish this shift, then I'll go down to him. I'm glad we've got him back. I am. He'll need me. I should go down._

But dammit, his head was still hurting, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that there was a part inside him smarting at the betrayal. He could tell that part to shut up as often as he liked, but it didn't go away.

He wasn't sure it ever would.

But what was he going to do if Noonien was truly gone this time?

No. He wasn't thinking about that. He would focus on what Bones had said. There was hope.

 

* * *

 

Sighing, Leonard sat down on a chair next to the medbed and took the Augment's limp hand in his. "Should really be Jim here doing this, I know," he said softly. "And frankly, I don't get why he isn't. Last time we were here, a tractor beam couldn't keep him away. I can only assume that the two of you have been fighting, and that now he's being a stubborn idiot. But he'll come around. Lord knows he's an excellent sulker, but he normally doesn't bear grudges. If he doesn't come around, I'll make him. But in any case, you do know that that's still no reason to stay dead, right? Even if Jim's sulking because of whatever, it doesn't mean that he loves you any less." He fell silent, embarrassed by his own words.

Khan did not respond. The monitors remained silent.

Alone with his patient, Leonard admitted to himself that he was scared for Khan's life. The last time he'd had a dead Augment in his sickbay, there hadn't been time for worrying or for what-ifs. Khan had come back within a matter of minutes, and that had been that. Why was it taking so long this time? It had been hours. There was probably a point from which there would be no coming back.

And then, they'd have a distraught Jim Kirk to deal with on top of it. Khan's death would hit Jim hard. Just when he had allowed himself to finally love someone, someone who had promised a literally inhuman degree of loyalty and protectiveness, and who had certainly loved him back...

"Don't be a fucking idiot," Leonard said to the Augment's still face. "Jim needs you. He may not be here right now to tell you so himself, but he does. Please. Be the adult in this relationship and come back, even if he -" He broke off. Had that been a twitch in one white eyelid?

A quick glance to the monitors confirmed it. Autonomous nervous system activity, and, yes, a pulse!

Leonard was weak with relief. "Oh, thank God. Thank whatever god. Thank crazy twentieth-century genetic engineering. Thank the Great Bird of the Galaxy."

 

* * *

 

Spock watched the captain fidget in his chair. From previous data, Spock concluded that the human was experiencing an inner conflict of some sort. And from another batch of data, he thought he could deduce the cause of this conflict. After all, Spock had heard Dr. McCoy's intercom message just like the rest of the bridge crew had.

"Captain," he ventured. When the captain turned to him, he added, "I am prepared to take over command, in case you should have business elsewhere. Sickbay, for example."

The captain threw Spock a look that carried a noticeable amount of guilt. "That's nice of you, Mr. Spock, but it won't be necessary. Nothing I can do, anyway."

"Such has rarely kept you before," Spock said, "Sir."

From the captain's expression, Spock gathered that he was about to hear a rather emotional response to that, when the intercom cut in.

_"Sickbay to bridge. Captain Kirk?"_

"I'm listening, Bones."

_"He's coming back."_

The general feeling of relief that pervaded every mind on the bridge battered against Spock's telepathic shield even without anyone touching him, but that was nothing compared to the blazing beacon of sheer elation that was Jim Kirk's mind.

_"So... If you've, uh, got nothing more important to do, you might want to get down here."_

Spock prepared to rise and take over. He looked at the captain, expecting him to immediately follow this suggestion.

All the more astonishing was the captain's reply. "Uh, not right now, Bones, we're pretty busy here with repairs. Later maybe. Kirk, out."

By now, the entire bridge crew was favoring the captain with looks of varying degrees of incomprehension, astonishment, and consternation.

The captain looked back at each of them in turn. "If anyone has anything to say, by all means, keep it to yourselves."

Spock met Nyota's gaze. Grimacing fiercly, she mouthed 'talk to him' while nodding at the captain from behind his back.

Spock raised an eyebrow at her. Such had been his intention, anyway, but it was always affirming to know that the one he cherished shared his plans.

 

* * *

 

The problem with the nervous system coming back online following massive tissue damage, Leonard McCoy reflected, was pain. All-encompassing pain, everywhere. In nearly every cell of the body. The problem with being an Augment coming back from the dead was that passing out from the pain was not an option. _And neither is giving him anything for it, obviously._

As terrible as it was to watch Khan writhe on his bed in mindless agony now, Leonard knew it was going to be a hundred times worse once the Augment regained consciousness and actually experienced the pain. Because then he'd probably try to control his reactions to it, not allowing himself to give in to it because he was _better than that_. Which would, of course, only make it worse.

And thus, Leonard found himself talking to his unconscious patient, telling him to "Just stay asleep, you aren't missing anything, just stay out of it, because you're not going to like it when you're awake...."

But whatever part of Khan's mind that was responsive now clearly didn't like it now, either. The worst of it were the soft breathy moans, high and thin, one with each exhalation. They sounded young and desperate, and they roused all sorts of protective instincts in Leonard.

"I'm not the right person," he said softly, taking one hand because he couldn't help himself and feeling it grip his in an instinctive plea for help. "It's not me you want. Stop doing that, please. And stop making those noises. I'm not the one. I can't help you. You need someone else. I don't smell right. I'd only panic you if I tried to calm you like Jim would. Not that I'm afraid of you, but..."

Head falling from side to side, eyes half open and unseeing. Moans getting louder, more insistent.

_Help me._

The noises made Leonard's insides clench and his arms ache with the need to hug the distraught Augment close.

_Dammit, Jim. This is your job. Why the hell aren't you here?_

 

* * *

 

_Why am I not in sickbay?_ Jim wondered. _I should be down there. He'll need me. He hates being hurt._

He knew very well why. _You acted like an idiot, Jimbo, and made him do something rash to stop you from killing yourself, and then you had the gall to blame him for that._

_Still, he shouldn't have hit me. We had an agreement. He makes a suggestion, I don't take it, he backs off. That's the agreement. How can I trust him not to do the same thing next time he disagrees with me?_

_That's a load of bull, Jimbo, and you know it. This wasn't just any strategic decision, it was about you playing the hero and him keeping you from fucking killing yourself. You're scared to face him. You know you disappointed him, and now you're afraid to see that in his face. That's why you're not down there. You're a fucking coward._

_... Yes. I'm scared to face him. I made him knock me out. I'm afraid I've lost him. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't want to be the one that's left, so I'm doing the leaving._

_Whatever, you can't hide up here forever. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face the music._

_... Yes, but not right now. My head still hurts. I'm waiting until I feel up to it. Just another hour or two. At most._

His internal dialogue was interrupted by Spock. "Captain. A word, if I may."

 

* * *

 

Leonard didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when, from one second to the next, the soft, desperate moans stopped. In the end, worry won out. _Shit. He's awake._

He looked up from where he had been holding the Augment's hand to meet tired eyes in a face tight with pain. "Hey," he said gently, letting go of the hand, moving into the center of Khan's vision, pleased to watch the ice blue eyes track him. "Can you tell me your name?"

A slow blink. Khan opened his mouth, cleared his throat. "Why?" he said, voice hoarse. "Has your inferior mind forgotten it already, Leonard?"

Leonard smiled, relieved. "Just checking for cognitive impairment. You were dead for several hours."

Khan closed his eyes, wincing. "That... explains it."

"How bad is it?"

A pause, long enough for two complete inhalations. "A nine."

"With ten being...?"

"Every cell in my body slowly suffocating from blood loss while my hand is getting crushed in a vize." His eyes remained tightly closed.

"Jeez." Leonard bit his lip. "Your ten is officially the worst ten I've ever encountered. Not much comfort, I know." He watched the Augment try not to writhe and to hold himself silent. _Only a matter of time before that much pain will agitate him into a rage. Jim, now would be a really good time to get over whatever is it that's keeping you and get down here._

His breathing now decidedly labored, Khan forced his eyes open and looked around. Leonard didn't need to ask him to know what he was looking for. When the Augment did not find it, he gave an angry growl and curled up on his side.

"I'm sorry that Jim's not here," Leonard said, earning himself a quick glance.

"Not your fault. Truth be told, I wasn't really expecting him to be."

Leonard certainly hadn't expected to hear that, and in that defeated tone of voice to boot. "What? Why not? What happened?"

Another pause. Khan wrapped his arms around himself. "I betrayed him. He has every right to be angry."

Heeding the non-verbal demands for comfort, Leonard got up and covered the Augment with a blanket. "Let me repeat the question. What? Why? What the hell happened?"

Khan gratefully pulled the blanket closer around himself, half burying his face in it, increasingly unable to keep his long limbs still. "He wanted to go. In the shuttle. Couldn't allow him. So I knocked him out. Left him lying on the floor. Last thing I saw of him."

_Oh_. "Well, fuck. He never said anything."

"Probably too angry... to talk about it." He paused, breathing, trying to hold back his sounds of pain. "I'd ask you to tell him I'm sorry except... I'm not. Couldn't let him go. He'd be dead now. Would do the same thing. Again. Every time."

_Yes, I can see that,_ Leonard thought. _Everyone can see that. I'd be amazed if Jim doesn't._ "Right. Will you be okay alone for a while? I've got to talk to a certain stubborn starship captain of our mutual acquaintance and tell him to get his head out of his ass."

Khan nodded, face hidden by his hair and in the blanket. "I promise not to kill your minions while you're gone."

Leonard looked at him, at the way he tensed and his hands, fisted into the blanket, opened and closed, listened to his labored breathing. "Try to relax. I'll bring him to you, if I have to hypo him and carry him here."


	3. Chapter 3

"Captain, I fail to understand your current course of action, or rather, of non-action," Spock said, looking at Jim with his peculiar Vulcan brand of disapproval that had been on his face since they left the bridge.

When his First Officer had asked him for a word, Jim had at first considered stalling, miming incomprehension, even claiming urgent business elsewhere. That look, however, had convinced him that the time for excuses was past. So he had followed along, trying to line up his defense in his mind, a defense that looked flimsy even to himself.

He leaned against the wall of the deserted conference room they had chosen for this talk, letting it take most of his weight. "Honestly, Spock, I fail to understand it myself."

There was no softening in the Vulcan's eyes, and Jim hadn't expected any, either. "In that case, I recommend that we terminate this conversation immediately and you leave for sickbay, where your presence is required."

"I… can't."

"And why is that?"

Again, Jim had to force himself to just say it. "Something you don't know. Before Noonien left with the shuttle… I tried to stop him. I wanted to go in his place."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but Jim cut him off.

"That's not all. I argued with him, and he knocked me out. That's physical assault, Spock. I'm not sure if I can still trust him after that." He frowned, then shook his head. "No, that's not true. At least not completely. I do feel betrayed, but it's not… I trust him, but… Dammit. I just don't know."

"To summarize," Spock said, "you decided that the captain of this ship, responsible for the safety of over 400 persons aboard, was more suited to a task that would result in his almost certain death than a civilian with no mandated responsibilities? Not to mention the fact that Singh is alive now because he's not a normal human, whereas you would most certainly be dead?"

Jim grimaced. "Sounds about right."

"May I ask on what grounds you made that decision?"

Khan, Jim remembered, had asked him the same thing. He had been unable to put his reasons in words then, and it took almost physical effort to do it now. "I… didn't want to be the one left behind." Said out loud, it made him sound like a complete idiot. A sentimental, cowardly idiot.

"To clarify," Spock said, inexorably, "you made an entirely illogical, emotional decision and are now acting in an illogical, emotional manner - I believe the term is 'sulking' - because the other involved party made that exact same decision for admittedly much more logical reasons."

Jim bit his lip. "Sounds about right," he said, again.

Spock managed to convey the impression that he was rolling his eyes while looking straight at Jim. "And Dr. McCoy wonders why I prefer logic over emotions."

"Yeah, I'll admit, not my brightest moment. But that's not the whole problem. He knocked me out. I'm… afraid he'll do something like that again the next time we're in that kind of situation."

Spock looked away briefly, then met Jim's eyes again. "At the risk of betraying Mr. Singh's confidence, I will now give you information you need to correctly assess this and any future similar situation."

"I'm listening."

"When I shared Mr. Singh's mind, amidst all the surface emotions, thoughts, memories, and calculations, I was most struck by a deep-seated need to belong. It is a desire common to all sentient beings, but especially strong, apparently, in one who has never known family bonds except those he forged himself. He said it himself - he will indeed do anything for his family, including, as we now know, the sacrifice of his own life. If there is anything he is genetically compelled to do, it is this: not warfare or conquest, but protecting those he considers his family, at all cost. No doubt a possibly unintended by-product of genetically designing the superior warlord and emperor whose function ultimately is to care for the wellbeing of his subjects. In other words, he will indeed act again like he did if and when he considers it necessary in order keep his family - us and particularly you, Jim - safe. You have the choice either to accept that part of him, or to dispense with his company. My advice would naturally be to accept it, and the fact that he will always put us and you first."

When Spock finished speaking, Jim actually didn't know what to say. He had known all this, at least on a subconscious level; he had been aware of Khan's protective streak. The only thing that really was new was the degree of, what had Spock called it? - compulsion underlying that streak. "So…" he finally said, "you're saying he can't help it? That, every time I try to pull a stunt like that, Noonien will thump me one because it's in his genes?"

"No. We can all go against our genetic inheritance. We are intelligent, self-aware beings, not insects that only act in accordance with genetic programming. But I submit that it would be exceedingly difficult for Mr. Singh to ignore this, for him, fundamental motivation. I believe that you can empathize, since you were and are driven by the same motives."

Touché, Jim wanted to say, when the doors to the conference room swished open, revealing a pissed-looking Leonard McCoy who took a look at Jim, at Spock, and back at Jim. "I thought you were hiding from me in here. Hi, Spock. Jim, you're coming with me. Now." He didn't just look pissed, he sounded pissed as well.

Jim sighed deeply. "Bones, you're too late. Spock already had a go at me."

"You'll have to deal with getting one from me as well, Jim, because you've been acting like a complete ass, and I've had to pick up the pieces, and I'm done. So now, you're coming with. No arguments."

"Bones." Jim grimaced. "I'm not sure he wants to see me."

That brought Bones up short and earned Jim a funny look from Spock. They looked at each other; Spock raised an eyebrow, and Bones glared at Jim. "That's a goddamn excuse and you know it, but we can talk about it on the way, if we must. Can we go now?"

"Sure, yeah, of course." Jim pushed off his wall and walked out of the conference room.

Spock and Bones followed, the surgeon looking a little astonished at the sudden surrender. "I've got a hypo prepared in case you were feeling stubborn, just so you know. I'll be keeping that for next time. Now, what was that about him not wanting to see you?"

It now seemed like such a minor thing that Jim was almost too embarrassed to mention it. "I was being an idiot, and I'm afraid he thinks less of me now. That's all. Stupid, I know."

"I'll say," Bones commented. "Stupid doesn't even begin to describe it. While you've been wallowing in self-pity, I've had to stand in for you with our resident consultant _who just saved the ship again_ , and that's not a role I'm well-suited to playing."

"I hear you, Bones."

The lack of argument visibly took the wind out of Bones' sails. "Well, good. Shows there's nothing wrong with your ears at least."

They left the turbolift, where Spock excused himself to go on to the bridge. Jim marveled how much better he was feeling already, simply because he was moving in the direction a large part of him had been wanting to go since he had heard that Khan was coming back from the dead. How stupid he had been, and what a waste of time.

_Lesson to be learned, Jimbo: When the entire bridge crew looks at you funny, you done fucked up. Next time you skip the navel contemplations and get your head in gear straight away._

Then the doors to sickbay opened, and these thoughts fled from his mind. He was drawn to the single occupied bed like a compass needle due North. A nurse was standing next to it, bending over the occupant.

Bones passed him. "What happened, Marjorie?"

She looked worried, in a subdued, professional manner. "I heard a scream, Doctor, and when I checked on the patient, he had lost consciousness."

Bones frowned and joined her in bending over Khan. Peeling back one eyelid, he said, "He's still out. I wouldn't have thought -"

But Jim had taken all he could take. "Bones!" he said, putting one hand on his friend's shoulder and turning him to face him. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"As I was trying to tell you all along, Jim," Bones returned, still seething with residual anger, "he's not doing too good. He was dead for hours, and now he's in a lot of pain due to, for lack of a medical term for this condition, multiple tissue damage. And when I say a lot of pain, I mean really a lot of pain. More than any of us, with the possible exception of Spock, could stand. And someone wasn't here to calm him down, so he passed out."

"I know, Bones. I know," Jim said, genuinely contrite. _I should have been here. I should have been here all along._

And then all thoughts fled from his mind again because Khan made a noise, a high, thin, desperate moan, a sound that seemed to reach straight into Jim's chest and yank at his heart.

Bones was muttering something next to him as Jim could hear himself make some wordless answering sound. He pushed Bones and the nurse aside and took the two steps that separated him from the bed and Khan; taking one pale, long-fingered hand in his, he anchored the other in sleek black hair.

Khan turned his head, eyes still closed, as if feeling Jim's presence.

"Finally," Bones said softly. "I'll be right back."

But Jim didn't pay him any mind, because Khan was making another noise, and this one was even worse; it was like a distress call aimed right at Jim's solar plexus that made him want to hold the Augment close to him as tightly as he could, right now.

Eyes stinging, he whispered "I'm sorry" over and over again, stroking the hair, the neck, needing to be closer. There wasn't enough room on the medbed to do what he knew Khan needed him to do right now, what he himself needed to do, which was crawl in with him and wrap himself around him so the unconscious Augment could smell him with every breath he took, and the fact that he couldn't was a kind of agony.

Another noise from Khan. By now, Jim could feel tears running down his face, and he would have tried to climb into the bed, no matter how narrow, if Bones hadn't at that moment pushed a second bed next to Khan's. JIm didn't even question where it had come from, or the way the two mattresses fitted together forming an even surface; he was just grateful to be able to get on and do what every cell in his body demanded, Khan's face finally on his shoulder, pressed against his neck, the long limbs as close to his as they could get, his own arms wrapped tightly around the slim, muscular body.

The deep-seated, almost physically painful pull on his insides eased practically instantly.

A blanket was drawn over them both, but Jim hardly noticed it, because Khan was making that noise again. Jim tightened his arm around him in response. "I'm here, I'm here, it's okay, I'm so, so sorry, I'm here now, I'm not leaving you alone ever again, I'm sorry I've been such an ass, please forgive me, I know I should have been here, I'm so sorry I put you through all this…"

The lights were lowered. "I'll be next door," Bones said softly, and then Jim knew he was alone with the Augment, still whispering reassurances, still responding almost helplessly to each soft, desperate noise Khan made, eyes burning from all the tears he was crying because it fucking hurt so much to hear them. Khan's face was pressed into the crook of Jim's neck, where it belonged; their arms and legs were locked about each other, and each small noise made Jim pull the Augment in closer.

They fell into a rhythm; Khan's soft whimpers on each breath and Jim's replies, both verbal and physical as he tightened and relaxed his arms in an almost rocking motion. He couldn't have left the bed and Khan now even if the ship were on fire. _I did this. I wasn't here. I did this to him. It's my fault._

At some point, Khan regained consciousness, and the noises he made stopped. "Jim," the Augment whispered. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Jim said softly, hugging him close. Feeling too raw for words.

With a soft exhalation of relief, Khan pressed his face against Jim's neck. He stayed still for a minute, just breathing, then his head began to move in the familiar cat-like nudging motion Jim had come to love. He certainly loved it now; it meant that they were okay, that Khan was still confident to demand Jim's attention in this way. 'I require to be petted', it said, over and over, and Jim was happy to oblige.

Whenever the pain flared, which it did frequently, Khan made a halting sound in the back of his throat, hardly audible, it but still made Jim's his arms tighten every time. Just the knowledge that the Augment was in such agony that he needed to vocalize it, however softly, was enough to twist Jim's insides painfully with the need to help.

Hours seemed to pass in this way. There was no call from the bridge; no doubt Spock was doing an excellent job as First Officer covering Jim's back, a fact for which Jim was intensely grateful. _I couldn't leave him now. Not even for my ship. Not after what I did._

At last, Khan fell silent and his tense body relaxed as the pain slowly eased and he could, finally, start to heal; Jim was with him all the way, holding him, stroking his back, keeping him calm. He could feel Khan's hold around him gradually ease, and then the Augment fell into a deep sleep.

Jim stayed where he was, his insides still aching, now with tenderness and affection. Now, he, too, was finally able to relax. He didn't dare go to sleep, though. He had been away for too long as it was, and the thought of Khan in any sort of distress while Jim was too out of it to notice was abhorrent. He needed to be able to notice every fluctuation in breathing, every muscular twitch, every small sound the sleeping Augment made as he held him, needed to feel that Khan was okay with every inch of his own body.

At some point, Bones looked in, a question in his eyes.

Jim raised one hand, giving him a thumbs up. Bones smiled briefly and withdrew, returning the gesture.

The interlude, of course, woke Khan. In the dim light, Jim could see his pale eyes look at him. "Forgive me, Jim," the Augment said softly into the silence.

"For what?" Jim replied, astonished.

"For betraying your trust. For the punch I gave you."

"No, Noonien," Jim whispered, "I'm the one who's sorry. None of this is your fault. I brought you in that position, I forced you to act that way. I understand that now. I've been an idiot."

Khan looked at him with that soul-searching intensity he had, assessing the truth in Jim's face, his expression slowly morphing from contrition to its familiar haughtiness. "I can hardly blame you for being intellectually inferior," he said drily.

Jim smiled. He had never been more relieved to be insulted in that special Augment way.

"Still," Khan went on, more seriously, "I shouldn't have hurt you so crudely. I have other ways of incapacitating people at my disposal. For that, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I deserved it," Jim tried to reassure him.

"I swore to myself never to hurt you."

"And I swore to myself to always be there when you need me, but when you did, I wasn't; instead I was sulking on the bridge. I think the tally's in your favor."

"No. Hurting you is the last thing I want to do. I should have been more careful of your human fragility. It will take a long time for me to forgive myself. You were right to avoid me."

"Oh, Jeez," McCoy's voice interrupted. "Kiss and make up already. All this breast-beating is scaring the cat."

Jim could feel Khan tense briefly at the sudden interruption, just like he could feel him relax again when it was clear that it was only Bones.

"It could be worse, Leonard," the Augment said, pointedly not moving out of Jim's arms. "We could be beating each other up instead."

Jim grinned and carded a hand through the dark hair. "Right now, I think I'd even stand a pretty good chance."

Khan closed his eyes and tilted his head back, giving Jim access. "I may be less than a hundred percent, but I'm still five times as ruthless as you, Jim." He sounded more like a purring kitten than like a snarling tiger, Jim was amused to note.

Still stroking, he put on his fiercest scowl. "Oh, I dunno, I'm pretty ruthless myself. I'd say you're twice as ruthless, at most."

"You, James Tiberius Kirk, are an adorable bunny compared to me," Khan said, eyes closing in enjoyment. "Four times, but only because I'd have to leave out holds that would actually kill you."

"And I know some illegal holds that you're not trained to fend off. Three times."

Khan opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Illegal handholds. Hmm. Give me a few more hours to recover and we can consider finding out if they're of any use."

There was a gagging sound from McCoy. "Oh God, now it's the lovebirds comedy hour. I'm not getting paid enough for this. Jim, go take your despot and do the rest of the making up in your quarters before I lose my lunch."

 

* * *

  
Leonard McCoy put the fork into his mouth, pulled it out, and began to chew. Thoughtfully. Skeptically. Frowning. Carefully not meeting anyone's eyes.

He could feel them watching him, waiting for his verdict. A suppressed giggle indicated that Pavel Chekov was underestimating the severity of the situation, which, judging from the continued silence, surprised nobody.

When he thought he had drawn it out long enough, he swallowed and twisted his face into an artful grimace. "Disgusting."

There was scattered laughter as conversations resumed.

"Och, yer a bloody barbarian," Scotty told Leonard, with dignity.

"I'm the barbarian? You're the one that eats sheep's stomach, Scotty!"

"And you eat pig's intestine. Dinna act like eating sausage is any more sophisticated than eating haggis."

They mock-glared at each other.

A bowl containing something steaming and orange was put in front of him. "Here, Leonard," Khan's voice purred from behind him. "Try this."

Leonard watched the Augment take the seat next to him and setting another bowl containing the same dish in front of himself.

"I know what this is, and I'm not eating it."

By way of reply, Khan looked at him, picked up his spoon, scooped up some Plomeek, gently blowed on it, and put it in his mouth. Then he swallowed his mouthful, and scooped up more.

Leonard watched, fascinated against his will. Scotty was watching, too, he noticed. The inevitable reaction had to come eventually. It had to. Eating Plomeek was... was...

After the third spoonful, Khan finally grimaced. "I suppose it is an acquired taste."

Scotty chuckled, and Leonard grinned. "I was beginning to think that there's something wrong with your tastebuds. I mean, with your sense of smell, this stuff must be just vile. It's simply not made for the human palate, and hey look, that rhymed."

Khan contemplated the rest of his Plomeek. "Mr. Spock assures me that it's perfectly safe for humans to eat, so I'll try again until I'm used to it."

"Really?" Leonard shook his head. "Why? Sounds like masochism to me. There's so much nice food in the galaxy. No need to force yourself to eat something you don't like."

"There may come a day when I don't have a choice."

"No choice except Plomeek? In what scenario could that possibly happen?"

"Being taken by Romulans."

"Let me get this straight," Leonard said incredulously. "Just because you anticipate a theoretical situation where you get captured by Romulans, you're going to try to 'get used' to Plomeek?"

"Hmm. Didn't you tell me yourself that that's what we do aboard a starship, Leonard? Anticipate 'crazy shit'?"

"... Touché," Leonard said, distracted by the way the profanity had sounded when uttered by Khan's voice.

"So, how did you like the Plomeek?" Jim interrupted, plunking himself down opposite, next to Scotty, setting down a plate full of a selection of what looked like everything (except Plomeek).

"Didn't try," Leonard said at the same time as Khan said, "Inconclusive."

"'Inconclusive'?" Jim repeated, looking at the Augment with his, by now, familiar besotted smile.

"He means he didn't like it, but he's going to keep trying until he does," Leonard helpfully translated.

Scotty, who had watched all this silently, cut in with, "Just in case he gets captured by Romulans, apparently."

"I see." Jim didn't seem surprised by this, because he merely nodded and started eating. "Spock will like that," he said around a mouthful of what looked like mac-and-cheese. "At least one other person aboard this ship besides him doesn't outright hate Plomeek."

Leonard felt it was time for a change of subject. "Awright, and now for the fun part." Reaching down, he put a bottle on the table.

He had to admit that Southern Comfort wasn't exactly a food, but he had figured that it did fit into the broad category of "comfort food", was traditional, and besides, so there. It was met with the requisite disapproval from Scotty, who argued that any whiskey having an 'e' in it wasn't worth discussing, let alone whiskey containing other ingredients besides wheat and water, but Leonard denied that battle because he wanted to talk about other things besides whiskey sometime during this party, and he'd seen Scotty in full whisky versus whiskey mode before.

Meanwhile, he had to admit that this whole idea of Jim's actually was fun. Everyone had brought something. Nyota Uhura had even gone to the expense of having the food synthesizers synthesize just the ingredients of the dish she had made and doing the actual cooking herself. Scotty and Khan, as it turned out, had done the same thing, and both had complained about the synthesizers being unable to fabricate some crucial ingredient or other and having to improvise, which was just poppycock and an excuse in Leonard's opinion, an opinion that wasn't solicited but nevertheless given whenever the occasion arose.

If you're an ex-tyrant, Leonard learned, you loved spicy hot food containing chicken and rice. If you're a starship captain in love with said ex-tyrant, you ate the spicy chicken bravely, trying your best not to choke from all the turmeric. As the evening progressed, you did your best to keep up with your beloved ex-tyrant as you both sampled whatever alcohol was available. Which, as it turned out, was a lot, because Leonard wasn't the only one who'd had the bright idea of defining alcohol as a comfort food. (Pavel, we're looking at you.) And, of course, the ex-tyrant's alcohol tolerance was stratospherically higher than yours, which might have ended up in an embarrassing situation if the ex-tyrant wasn't so evidently in love with you that he rescued you by making sure that your glass was always mysteriously empty whenever you reached for it.

Much later, Leonard found himself opposite Scotty, with Checkov (who didn't hold his alcohol nearly as well as he liked to think, poor boy) and Spock (who wasn't affected at all by the stuff, damn him) on either side of him and Jim and Khan opposite and next to Scotty. Checkov was listing dangerously to one side. Despite Khan's best efforts, Jim was clearly feeling no pain.

Leonard himself had a good buzz going but was far from smashed. "Don't you hate it?" he asked Khan, including Spock in the question. "Having to watch everyone get wasted while you stay sober?"

"No, I find it very amusing," Khan said, snatching Jim's glass from under the captain's hand and emptying it, to Jim's vocal disapproval.

"Someone has to be able to take command in case of an emergency," Spock added, earning himself a nod from Khan.

"And to keep you fragile humans from choking on your own puke," the Augment added.

"And yet," Leonard began, raising an important finger, "and yet, your liver works the same as ours. Same enzymati..matic... thing."

Jim giggled at that, reaching for the Southern Comfort, apparently intending to drink straight from the bottle, since Khan still had custody of his glass. In an impressive sleight of hand, Khan exchanged the bottle with another one containing juice, which Jim only noticed when he started drinking from it. And didn't mind.

The interlude had thoroughly derailed Leonard's train of thought, and he took a moment to get back on track. "Uh, right, yeah. As I was saying. You can get drunk, right? From alcohol, I mean."

"Of course," Khan said, giving Leonard his full attention now that Jim was safely drinking something non-alcoholic. "Just not from these homeopathic amounts." To demonstrate, he filled Jim's glass with vodka and downed the contents, smacking his lips. "This is not bad."

"Old Russian recipe," Chekov slurred, barely understandable due to an exponential increase of accent. The young man looked like he wanted to add something, but gave up, frowning.

Khan gave him a look. "Someone should move this boy out of the danger zone and somewhere he can rest."

Scotty pointed at his own head. "That's usually my job. 'S not the first time we're doing this, yanno." The Scot got up, only a little unsteadily, and pulled Chekov to his feet. "C'mon, laddie. Party's over for you." They walked out of the rec room in a rather wobbly line.

"So," Leonard picked up the thread, "how much would be enough, then?"

"More than two litres of a beverage containing at least 54 percent of alcohol consumed within thirty minutes. I haven't actually tried doing it, but that would be my guess."

Leonard looked around. The vodka bottle was still more than half full...

"And I'm not doing it now," Khan added.

"Aww," Jim piped up. "You're no fun." He put an arm around the Augment's shoulder and nuzzled his neck. "Please. For me."

Khan smiled and briefly stroked Jim's cheek. "No. Not now. Not even for you."

"Not even if I say pretty please?"

"No," Khan said, still smiling. "But you can try saying this three times fast: The sixth sick Sheik's sixth sheep is sick. If you manage that, I'll think about it."

Five hilarious minutes followed, during which Jim so thoroughly tangled himself up in consonants that he began to giggle helplessly, still hanging on to Khan's shoulder.

Leonard looked at them and took a moment to marvel how incongruous that image would have been only a few months ago. "You two are adorable," he said. Turning to Spock, he added, "Aren't they adorable?"

"I would not know, Doctor," the Vulcan said, utterly dignified and unruffled during all these shenanigans but watching with a tolerant eye.

"Oh, hey," Leonard said, seeing his chance. "I've got one for you, Spock: I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit and on the slitted sheet I sit. Say it." He was rather proud of himself that he'd gotten that out right on the first try. Who said you didn't learn useful things in Med School?

"If we've lowered ourselves to this, I suggest that we draw this party to a close," Spock returned, to Leonard's distinct disappointment.

"I concur," Khan said, to Jim's.

The two party-poopers promptly got up to start clearing things away. Leonard decided against having a last drink and even prevented Jim from seizing the opportunity (and the bottle). I'm standing in for Khan again, he realized, amused. Meanwhile, he watched Spock and Khan doing their thing while talking softly and looking over to Jim repeatedly. Bonding over their mutual worry for Jim? Leonard wondered. He hoped so. Jim could use all the peoply worrying for him he could get.

It was only when they had all trooped out of the rec room, said their good-nights, and were going their separate ways to theirs quarters that Leonard realized that Spock had called Khan by his given name.

 

* * *

 

A glass of water was shoved into Jim's field of vision. "Drink."

Knowing it was pointless to refuse the emperor when he used that tone of voice, Jim did.

"Good. Now put a finger down your throat."

The tone of voice was the same, but Jim's rebelliousness had risen. "Noonien, really, I'm fine."

"You think you're fine now, but you had too much to drink to be fine tomorrow. Do it."

Sighing as loudly as he could, Jim did.

The same procedure was repeated until all he brought up was clear water, and Khan was finally satisfied. Ten minutes later, having had a last glass of water, with his teeth brushed, and in his pyjamas in bed, Jim gratefully closed his eyes.

His world was still revolving gently, but he was held fast by augmented strength, cared for by augmented love, and protected by augmented senses. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, knowing that Khan could hear him.

"I agree," the deep voice rumbled, "you deserve better. But you're stuck with me for the moment, so learn to deal with it."

Jim grinned in the darkness. "Yes, my prince. My _Khan_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, that ended up being a little more sappy than I intended when I started, lol. I hope you still like it.
> 
> I'm still not finished with this 'verse, so there'll be more where this came from. :-)


End file.
